Hope's End
by Author Gal
Summary: In the War of the Ring, many suffered great losses. However, perhaps none lost so much as Éomer, Son of Éomund.
1. Hope's End

**Hope's End.**

**Disclaimer:**Lord of the Rings is strictly the property of J.R.R. Tolkien.

Hope's End:

"Mourn not overmuch! Mighty was the fallen, meet was his ending. When his mound is raised, women then shall weep. War now calls us! Let his knights remain here, and bear his body in honour from the field, lest the battle ride over it! Ys, and all these other of the king's men that lie here. Hirluin, Grimbold, Harding, Fastred, Herefara and…"

I knew that face, so fair and cold in death. I knew the golden tress of hair that lay about her, like a crown made of the rays of the sun. I knew that pale hand, curled under then chin as though it would bear her comfort. Alas! That I know that face!

And, as though struck dead myself, I stood unmoving and studied every feature that I knew like my own. And then guilt rained upon me, that I, her sole protector, should have lead her to such a fate. That I who knew her best should have let her die alone in this forsaken place.

And guilt and pain combined, took over my very being and consumed me, filling my being with cold fury as I have never felt before. That some fouled creature could strike down she who is fairest, she who was dearest to me. And as my heart broke in two I cried to the heavens.

"Éowyn, Éowyn! Éowyn, how come you here? What madness or devilry is this? Death, death, death! Death takes us all!"

Oh, what wretched time is this! That I, Éomer, son of Éomund, should live to see the deaths of those I love. That I should see the end of man!

And I took my spear and charged and brought down many foes. They fell like rain around me. I gave back tenfold and more than what they took, they robbed the world or something pure, and I took those that thieved it.

"Death! Ride, ride to ruin and the world's ending!"

Alas that they should pluck Rohan's most delicate flower, and alas that I should have been so blind as to let them. To let her travel with me and not know, to not heed her manner when she begged to fight. To have led her to her end.

Despair! O People of Rohan! Despair! O People of the Riddermark, for today we lose she who is most beautiful.

And fear, O creatures of Mordor and the bowels of the earth, for today you suffer the wrath of Éomer, brother of Éowyn. Tremble at my call, run whilst you still have breath, for I will not stop until the ground runs with your blood in payment for my sister.

Flee, foul spawn of Mordor! But do not hope for life, for there is no place that I will not follow you, no time when I will not stop hunting you.

For Éowyn.

_Out of doubt, out of dark to the day's riding_

_I came singing in the sun, sword unsheathing._

_To hope's end I rode, and to heart's breaking:_

_Now for wrath, now for ruin and a red nightfall!_

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**A/N: More angst. Sigh, did you really expect anything else? Although I am not particularily happy with this one... Ah well, it matter's not! ****This story is dedicated to a Dedicated Ant. The stupid thing kept climbing up my leg whist I was writting, and therefor was probably responsible for all the angst. **

**I am going away in a few days time, so there will be a flurry of stories posted until I leave. I will be gone for two weeks, but expect another flurry of updates because all I will be doing is writting! **

**Please review, this is the first time I have tried to write in "Tolkien English" and would love some feedback on it. Thanks!**

**(NB:Changes made thanks to Shieldmaidenofrohan, thanks!)**


	2. Hope's Renewal

**Hope's Renewal **

**Disclaimer: If I wrote L.o.t.R, I would be Tolkien. If I were Tolkien, I would be dead. If I were dead, I wouldn't have been able to write this story. Therefore, I am not Tolkien and I do not own this. **

**Chapter two:**

We came to the Hall of the Tower seeking the Steward Denethor, to talk to him of Gondor's King, yet we did not find him. We came seeking answers and Denethor's council, yet we found it not.

Instead I found a bed, and on it lying my King and Uncle, surrounded by twelve torches and twelve knights of both Rohan and Gondor. In death, Theoden's face looked young and peaceful, like one who has no more care and simply sleeps. Silent we stood, Prince Imrahil and I, and I watched the Prince bow his head in sorrow and pain.

Like his, my head also bowed, not in sorrow but in righteous anger. For where lay she who I loved most, sister-daughter to the King? Where lay she who had fought so valiantly, who had died so bravely? Where lay the Lady Éowyn?

My fists clenched and I felt a weight on my shoulders, a pain that seemed endless. How I was to blame for her death! That I could lead her to such a fate, I who loved her and knew her more intimately than any other. I, who had raised her, helped her, held her. That I should cause the destruction of Lady Éowyn, and that she should go without honour for it. Cruel, accursed man am I!

"Where is the Steward? And where also is Mithrandir?" Imrahil's voice brought me back from the place of darkness, where my mind feels naught but pain, and returned me to the Hall of the Tower.

"The Steward of Gondor is in the House of Healing." Tears were in the guard's eyes, and I turned my face away, instead resting my gaze on one I knew well, a knight from Rohan. No tears filled his eyes.

My grief overcame me, why do they not cry for her? "Where is the Lady Éowyn, my sister?" I cried, my voice laced with pain. "For surely she should be lying beside the King, and in no less honour?" I gestured wildly to the grander of my Uncle's bed, my eyes blurring with tears. The knight said naught, but stared at me in fear and confusion. Why will he not tell me what they have done with my sister? Am I a madman for wanting to see her? Am I the only one who loved her? Why does he not cry for the White Lady?

"Where have they bestowed her?" I cried, my voice echoing about the room. The guard flinched slightly, as though I had stuck him, and I closed my eyes in pain. Oh, Éowyn, how could I have done this to you?

I felt Imrahil's hand on my shoulder, as if to draw me out of my grief. But why should I return, with nothing before me? I had lost all those I loved, am I not allowed to grieve?

I turned on him in anger, but the look he gave me was not one of pity, but confusion. "But Lady Éowyn was yet living when they bore her hither."

I stared at him and like a child's rag doll I felt my whole body go limp with shock. Could it be true? She had seemed so still and cold…

"Did you not know?" Imrahil said softly, his eyes shining with joy and pity.

Oh, blessed joy! Oh, blessed, blessed man who brings me such news! My sister, alive! That I should see this- nay, to _feel_ this hope restore itself in my heart. My sister lives, and I so close to losing her forever.

And then fear crept into my heart and mixed with my joy. So cold had my sister been when she lay on the fields, so pale and still. What if she tarried not long in this world? Would I lose her yet?

I turned on my heels and left the room, saying nothing as I walked swiftly towards the House of Healing. I must get there soon, I must see her in the world of the living one more time.

For Éowyn.

_Death in the morning and at day's ending _

_Lords took and lowly. Long now they sleep_

_Under grass in Gondor by the Great River._

_Grey now as tears, gleaming silver,_

_Red then it rolled, roaring water:_

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**A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Carawyn, who inspired me to write it! If you ever see this story, thank you very much! I will probably write one or two more chapters as well, so thank you. **

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter, if you could once again tell me how I went with my "Tolkien English" that would be great.**

**Please review and check out my LJ (link is in my profile)! Thanks!**


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